Defending Hearts (14 page)

“Style statement?” Gretchen laughed and took the boots before sitting on the edge of Jen’s bed to put them on.

Kelly tilted her head. “A long pencil skirt, a blouse and jewelry. Statement pieces.”

“Was there a memo about statements I missed?” Gretchen asked, tugging on the boots. They weren’t as tight on her as the heels had been, and she had no trouble drawing the zippers up over her calves. “Style statements. Statement pieces. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“
Statement pieces
is a more expensive-sounding way to say
big costume jewelry
.”

“Oh!” Jen actually clapped her hands together. “I bet Gram has some cool jewelry. Then it’s retro and that’s even better.”

“I don’t have any childhood memories of Gram running around the farm decked out in sparkly gems,” Gretchen pointed out.

“That small field behind the old mill had a building on it before we were born,” Kelly said. “It was a luncheonette when it burned, but before that it was some kind of social club. On Friday nights, the good people of Stewart Mills had quite the parties there, from what I hear. The women loved to dress up and they all had their hair done on Friday afternoons.”

A memory floated to the surface of Gretchen’s mind. “I remember seeing an old picture of my grandparents. They were laughing with friends, and they were all dressed up. Gram had a drink in her hand. I don’t know why, but I assumed they were at a wedding or something.”

Gretchen wasn’t sure just how much of the town’s history Alex wanted to include in his project, but she made a mental note to mention the social club to him. He may have already read about it while digging around the library’s archives, but just in case he hadn’t, she’d bring it up.

She stood and retraced her steps across the bedroom, almost sighing in relief. The boots had a flexible sole and the leather was so soft, it was almost as though she were barefoot.

“Those are
so
you,” Jen said. “I’m curvier than you, so to get them to fit my calves, they’re a little bit big in the foot and I almost never wear them. They look amazing on you, though.”

“They feel amazing.”

Twenty minutes later, Gretchen stood in front of the full-length mirror and had to admit Jen and Kelly were damn close to being miracle workers. She didn’t quite look like her usual day-to-day self, but she didn’t look like a little girl playing dress up, either. Or like an actress playing a role.

The long black skirt was straight, almost hugging her legs, and suited the sleek boots. And Jen had found her a blouse in a blue that matched her eyes. It was in a soft fabric that didn’t feel constrictive, and the neckline tastefully accented just a hint of cleavage.

“I was wrong,” Kelly said, and Gretchen frowned at her friend’s reflection in the mirror. She thought she looked pretty freaking fantastic. “About the jewelry. No statement pieces.”

“I agree,” Jen said. “That hair is the statement and the whole look is so classic as is.”

Gretchen felt the nerves kicking in again. They’d pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair, so it was loose, but messy. “I’ll tell you right now I’m not doing curling irons or hot rollers or blow dryers or whatever it is you’re thinking about. And no gunk.”

They both laughed, and Kelly smoothed the dark strands. “No gunk. If you wash it and comb it out, it’ll be perfect. It’s straight and long and frames your face beautifully.”

“No gunk on her face, either,” Jen added. “I have a cream that’s like a light foundation. It just evens out the skin tone a little. Some mascara and lip gloss. Not really makeup, but just a little polish.”

Gretchen nodded, liking the sound of that. And a bit of the dread that had sat like a lead ball in the pit of her stomach disappeared, leaving nothing but a little anxiety about
poking her eye out with a mascara wand. Every time she’d thought about going away for a night with Alex, the anticipation had been undermined by images of herself tripping in fancy shoes or looking like a clown in badly applied Cherry Hot Pants lipstick.

“Alex is going to play hell trying to concentrate on the event,” Kelly said. “He’ll probably forget everything he was going to say with you looking like this.”

Gretchen smiled at her reflection, trying to imagine the look on his face when he saw her. There was no doubt he found her attractive, but part of her was really looking forward to showing him she could dress up for a night on the town, too. Sure, it took the help of her two best friends and a borrowed wardrobe, but she could do it.

“Now comes the fun part,” Jen said. “What are you wearing to bed?”

“My cow pajama pants.” She thought they’d laugh, but instead she was flanked in the mirror by two horrified faces. “He likes my cow pajama pants.”

“Was he laughing when he said it?” Jen asked. “Or maybe drunk?”

“No, he was serious. He said it’s like a little secret nobody else knows, except Gram, of course. Everybody sees serious, hardworking me, but he knows at the end of the day, I have silly cows on my butt.”

Jen chuckled, but Kelly got a soft, goofy look on her face. “Oh, Gretchen. You have to keep him.”

Keep him.
She’d entertained the thought for a moment or two before, but every time she did, she ended up tossing and turning half the night. “It’s not going to happen. He’s made it clear he’s not a farm boy.”

“I love you,” Kelly said. “You know I love you, so I’m going to be the one to say it. You can’t give up a chance at love and happiness for a pumpkin patch and chickens.”

Gretchen not only felt her body tense, but she saw it in the mirror, too. Her back straightened and her chin lifted. But she took a deep breath and forced herself to think before she spoke. “The farm’s a lot more than a pumpkin patch. It’s my home. And it’s Gram’s home.”

“I know, but I think you’ve made
home
into something more than it needs to be. You could make a home anywhere, and take Gram with you.”

“Says the girl born and raised on Eagles Lane.” She tried to say the words lightly, but they came out with an edge. “Maybe I have made the farm into more than what it is. Do you think I don’t know it’s an old farmhouse that needs some work, some outbuildings that need even more work, an ancient tractor and some land?”

“Your grandfather wouldn’t want you to be tied to it,” Kelly said softly and, because she was still looking in the mirror, she saw the sharp shake of Jen’s head. Gretchen watched the whole exchange.

Then she sighed and started unbuttoning the pretty blouse as she turned her back on her reflection. “It’s not about Gramps. I love the farm. It’s my home and not because it was the first place I even knew what that word meant.”

“There’s no reason he can’t travel from the farm, is there? He has an apartment in . . . Rhode Island, is it? Why not here instead?”

Gretchen placed the blouse back on its hanger and unzipped the skirt. “He’s hardly ever at his apartment, so how often would he be here? And it’s very different. He chose
Providence because he can get to Boston or New York City easily, and hop a flight to Baltimore or Washington or Philly. It’s not easy to get here, even from Boston.”

“Chase is in New Jersey right now, but we make it work. Phone calls and video chats and emails.”

“Yeah, but it’s temporary. There’s an end point. Video chats are okay when it’ll be, what? Six months at the most?”

“If that.”

“Exactly. Would you be happy with Chase if he was going to be working in New Jersey
for years
?”

“I don’t know,” Kelly said in a low voice. “I really don’t know.”

“Hey,” Jen said. “You have a hot guy who wants to take you down to the city, show you a good time, and then have hotel sex with you. Let’s focus on that for now.”

“Is hotel sex different than regular sex?”

Kelly smiled and took the skirt from her. “Oh, yeah.”

“Worth putting a mascara wand near my eyeball kind of different?”

Both women nodded, and Gretchen shoved aside the lingering negativity of her conversation with Kelly so she could focus on the possibilities of hotel sex. If she was going to wear the kind of clothes that needed ironing and risk blinding herself with a goopy brush, she was seriously going to reap the
benefits.

O
n Friday, Alex woke with a sense of anticipation he couldn’t quite explain. He’d been to so many different kinds of art functions that attending this one shouldn’t have been any more exciting than a trip to the grocery store.

Nonetheless, the first thought he had upon opening his eyes was,
The reception’s today!
He went straight from his bed to the shower, since he never had to worry about the hot water heater that way. Ida either took her shower before he was even awake or waited until after breakfast, and Gretchen usually preferred taking hers in the evening.

Once he was dressed, he went downstairs and, as soon as he walked into the kitchen, realized why he was looking forward to tonight’s event. It was because the gorgeous woman in the blue jeans and red flannel shirt thrown over a tee was going with him.

“Good morning,” she said, setting a coffee cup on the table for him. “Were you warm enough last night? I know it was a little on the cool side, and you might not be as used to it as we are.”

“I slept like a baby.” He wanted to grab her and kiss her until she forgot what she was doing, but Ida being in the room stopped him. Tonight, though, they’d be staying in a very nice hotel, and tomorrow he would kiss her good morning to his heart’s content. “I pulled up the quilt that was folded at the foot of my bed and was plenty warm enough.”

“What time are you two leaving today?” Ida asked, setting a plate piled high with pancakes in the center of the table.

“By two, I hope.” Alex served each of the women a pancake and then slapped one on his own plate. “It starts at five, so factoring in a rest stop along the way, three hours should do it.”

“And you’re not checking into the hotel until after?”

“I have a reservation, so the room will be ready when the event’s over. But you have Gretchen’s cell phone number and mine, so you can reach either of us if you need to.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. Dana might come over and play cards for a while this evening, and I’ll have you know who for company.”

They tried to avoid saying Cocoa’s name while they were eating because she would hear it, and she wasn’t allowed into the kitchen. Whining often ensued.

While Gretchen launched into a list of people Ida should contact for different situations ranging from one of the
horses getting loose to the well pump quitting, Alex pondered the fact that Ida hadn’t even blinked when he said the room would be ready, not the
rooms
, plural. It was kind of ridiculous, at their age, for him and Gretchen to be pretending they weren’t involved because of her grandmother, especially since she’d practically thrown them at each other.

Sex was one thing. Alex had never had sex with a woman in his mother’s home, and he could understand Gretchen feeling the same way about her grandmother’s home. The problem was it was
also
Gretchen’s home and, as a grown woman, she needed to be able to have some privacy. It was definitely a sticky situation with no clear-cut answer.

But he wasn’t sure why they were going out of their way to not even touch in front of Ida. A kiss good morning. Holding hands on the couch. He knew without even testing the theory that Gretchen wasn’t a public-displays-of-affection kind of girl. But this kitchen was far from public.

After breakfast, they went their separate ways and Alex didn’t see Gretchen again until about an hour before they were supposed to hit the road. She came in from doing whatever it was she’d been doing outside, and the expression she wore when she walked into the living room and saw him made him laugh.

“You look like you’re going to get a root canal, not heading out for a night out in the city.”

She shrugged, then gave him a chagrined smile. “I’m not dreading it quite as much as I would a root canal.”

Pulling her close, he gave her a quick kiss. “If you really don’t want to go, it’s okay, you know. I want you to be there with me, but not if it’s going to make you miserable.”

“I just . . .” Her expression closed off, and he gave her a questioning look. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

It hadn’t occurred to him she might feel that way, because it was the furthest thing from his mind. “Embarrass me how?”

“I don’t think I’m going to fit in very well with the art crowd.”

“You’ll fit in very well with me.” That he was very sure of, and he made sure the conviction was in his voice. “We could go right now and I’d be proud as hell to have you on my arm tonight.”

She laughed and brushed some loose hair back from the sweat still glistening on her forehead from whatever she’d been doing. “Thanks, but I guess I’ll take a shower first.”

Since Alex had taken his shower already, all he had to do was get dressed. While she got ready, he put on most of his suit, though he carried the coat downstairs on the hanger. He’d wait until they arrived to put it on since it was warm and he didn’t want to get sweaty.

He was watching CNN with Ida and Cocoa—trying not to be sorry he and his camera weren’t in the Middle East at that moment—when he heard the bathroom door upstairs close and then a creak in the floorboards halfway down the hall. After tossing the remote control on the table, he stood to wait for her.

He felt like a teenage boy watching his prom date come down the stairs, and she took his breath away. “Wow.”

“Oh, Gretchen,” Ida whispered.

Alex guessed Kelly or Jen or maybe both had had a hand in her outfit, and he thought maybe he should send them a
thank-you card. The long, slim black skirt and calf-hugging black boots emphasized her height, and the classically cut blue blouse matched her eyes. She wore no jewelry, but with her hair brushed out and gleaming past her shoulders, she didn’t need any. Her makeup was simple—maybe even just mascara and lip gloss—which suited her.

“You look stunning,” he told her, and he meant it.

She gave him a warm smile as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He met her there and took her overnight bag. “Thank you. The skirt’s even a little stretchy, so it’s very comfortable. And I haven’t told Jen yet, but I’m not giving these boots back.”

“You look beautiful,” Ida said, putting aside her knitting so she could stand up. “Now give me a kiss and get going. You don’t want to be late.”

Even though she was talking to Gretchen, Alex gave Ida a quick peck on the cheek and Cocoa a high five before grabbing his suit coat. He hung it in the backseat of the Jeep and slid her bag in next to his, closing the door just in time to open the front passenger door for Gretchen.

She slid into the seat and then laughed when he leaned inside. “What are you doing?”

“I’m helping you with your seat belt.” He pulled the seat belt out and across her body, and then touched his mouth to hers, not caring if Ida was watching from the house.

He felt Gretchen startle, but she relaxed after a second and let him kiss her. Then he clicked her seat belt securely and closed her door. Whistling a happy tune, he walked around the Jeep and got in. The second he started the engine, Gretchen hit the seek button on his radio, looking for the station she liked.

He laughed and put the Jeep in gear. It was going to be a good night.

They spent most of the drive talking, though sometimes Gretchen would get caught up singing along to the radio, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear her, while watching the scenery go by. In between songs that caught her attention, she talked about the pumpkins and her grandmother’s pumpkin pie filling, and the imminent departure of the horses, among other things.

He loved listening to her talk about the farm. The affection she felt not only for her grandmother and the dog but also for the land itself made her voice warm, and he would happily listen to her for hours.

When they arrived at the restaurant, he told her to wait and got his suit coat out of the back. He slipped it on and then walked around to her door. He opened it and then offered her his hand.

He wondered for a moment if she’d scoff at the gesture, or even laugh out loud. She was such a strong, capable woman used to doing things for herself, so it would probably seem silly to her.

But she put her hand in his and gave him a slow, sexy smile as she swung her legs over and slid out of the Jeep. “You’re quite the gentleman tonight.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “For now.”

“Just so you know . . . ” she began, and it took him a fraction of a second to acknowledge to himself that if she said she wasn’t wearing any underwear, they were getting back in the Jeep and going straight to the hotel. “. . . I didn’t pack my cow pajamas.”

It wasn’t quite a lack of underwear, but just the way her voice dropped as she said the words was enough to make him a little uncomfortable in the dress pants. “I’ve grown rather fond of those pajama pants.”

“I think you’ll be pretty fond of the nightgown I bought, too.” She took a few steps across the parking lot, and then she turned and looked back at him with a mock-innocent expression. “Don’t you want to go inside?”

No, he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to take the time to drive to the hotel. It was tempting to drop the seats in the Jeep and climb right into the back with her. But they were both too tall and he’d miss out on the nightgown.

“Yeah,” he said, swinging her door shut with a bang and hitting the lock button on the key fob. “But we’re not staying long.”

—

G
retchen was pretty sure her mouth had frozen into the shape of a polite smile at least an hour ago.

Luckily, everybody at the reception seemed to love the sound of their own voices, so nobody appeared to mind that she did a lot more smiling and nodding than she did talking. But she had to admit she was having a better time than she’d anticipated.

She didn’t know what anybody was talking about half the time, but she could tell they not only knew who Alex was but also had a lot of respect for his work. While she’d seen him sit for what seemed like hours, analyzing photos he’d taken around Stewart Mills, the men and women
around them tonight actually understood and appreciated the art of what he did.

They ate, filling their plates from an assortment of the restaurant’s finest dishes, served buffet-style. Then they mingled some more, and Gretchen was thankful she hadn’t tried to manage shoes with heels since the only time they sat down was during dinner. Now she sipped a glass of ice water and listened to the conversation Alex was having with a man named Ed, who seemed to have something to do with a famous regional magazine she’d never heard of.

“So, Murphy, when are you going to stop wasting time here in New Hampshire and get back out into the thick of things?”

The words cut Gretchen to the bone, though she struggled to make sure her reaction didn’t show on her face.

That was the question, wasn’t it? When would Alex get tired of wasting his time in the middle of nowhere with her and go back to traveling around the world, taking photographs that brought in money and awards, and the adoration of people like these? It was a thought that circled through her mind more and more often as the days passed, but hearing it said out loud—and in such a blunt way—shook her more than she cared to admit.

Alex only squeezed her hand, as if he knew the question would bother her, and smiled at the man. “I’m getting some great photographs in Stewart Mills, actually. Having an emotional connection to the subject brings a depth to the work—layers, if you will—that you can’t fake.”

That seemed to satisfy the man, who turned the conversation to some kind of grant he was applying for. Gretchen
feigned interest, making sure the bland smile stayed plastered on her face, but her attention was mostly on the way her fingers were interlaced with Alex’s.

His thumb brushed up and down the length of her index finger in what was probably a subconscious gesture. It was comfortable and easy, and it gave her something to focus on besides the people milling around them. Every once in a while, he’d give her hand a squeeze and she’d glance at him. He’d give her a questioning look and she’d smile to show she was fine.

About a half hour after the
wasting his time
question, he leaned close enough to whisper in her ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t need to ask her twice. It took probably ten or fifteen minutes to get through the room and say their good-byes, and then she was outside, breathing in the fresh air. It was starting to cool off as the sun started going down, but she welcomed the light chill after the stuffiness of the restaurant.

“How bad was it?” Alex asked once they were out of the parking lot and driving through the city.

“I had a good time.”

He snorted and glanced over at her. “You can be honest.”

“I am being honest. It’s not something I’d want to do all the time, but some of the people were very nice. The food was good.”

“Really?”

“Okay, it wasn’t as good as what Gram makes, but I didn’t have to wash the dishes.” He laughed and reached over to grasp her hand. Lacing his fingers through hers, he
rested his forearm on the center console. “It was neat, seeing you in your element. It was obvious everybody there really respects you.”

“Yeah, some of them do. The others . . . well, within the week I’ll be getting emails asking me for something. An introduction to my agent or teaching a free workshop or a good word with some committee or another.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes, especially after an event like this. But in my field, your career pretty much lives or dies in the shot, and most people recognize that. There’s only so much I can do to help a person out.”

Gretchen wanted to ask him what he’d thought of the guy who said he was wasting his time in Stewart Mills, but he flipped his blinker on and turned into the hotel parking lot. Of course he opened her door for her, but she drew the line at him carrying both bags.

She felt conspicuous, standing next to him in the lobby with the handle of her overnight bag clutched in her hands. It was a nice enough bag—a black quilted material that was fairly timeless despite belonging to Gram—but she wondered what the desk clerk would think of their small, separate bags. If they were really a couple, they probably would have packed together in one small suitcase.